OGs on the Road: a Zevon Campaign Playlist, Ispini na hEireann, and I-90 Songs

In the dog days of summer, especially the brutally hot ones we’ve been getting in DC, what else can you hope for but cool weather, some time on the road, and great music to go alongside the journey? And in 2024, maybe we can also hope for a more optimistic political campaign? So for this post, we bring those together: several new songs in honor of America’s longest interstate, a road report on a “trad” Irish band from Dublin, and as VP candidate Tim Walz hits the road, we provide a playlist for him to consider using on the campaign trail from one of his – and OG Brian’s – favorites, Warren Zevon.  

New Album (well, New Songs from 3 New Albums): I-90 songs. It’s August, so there aren’t that many great new albums coming out around now (apologies to any remaining Smashing Pumpkins fans, but I imagine their early August release is as unlistenable as the title is unpronounceable). And when in the course of one week in early August, I found myself in both Seattle and Boston, it seemed like a good moment to highlight a mini-theme of recent months from some favorite 2024 albums: songs called “I-90.” (These also prompted me to do some digging and realize there are quite a few songs called “I-90,” so I’ll add in one of those as well.)

First – a few I-90 facts (all courtesy of Wikipedia; my interstate knowledge is not quite this deep). At 3,021 miles, it is the longest interstate in the United States, starting, as I hinted, at an intersection in Seattle and ending at Boston’s Logan Airport. I-90 goes through 13 states; its busiest section is around Chicago (where parts of it form the Kennedy and the Dan Ryan Expressways), and its emptiest is in Wyoming.  I-90’s longest stretch in any one state is the 552 miles spent in Montana, where, in the mid-late 90s, the rural stretches had no specific speed limit. Instead, the speed limit was what state police determined to be “reasonable and proper.” Sadly, the Montana Supreme Court overturned this approach. Fascists.    

Anyway, on to the songs recently released in honor of this highway that covers the expanse of the United States. If you know of others, please post them in the comments. And if you have spent any extended time on I-90 this summer, let us know what your soundtrack was.

• “I90” from Pink Balloons by Ekko Astral – Pink balloons is a journey of a record. The DC band uses the term “mascara moshpit” for its sound, and the record covers punk, post-punk, dance-punk, some songs that feel almost industrial, and then some more straight-ahead indie rock. Then the last song, which at 8:36 takes up more than 20% of the total time of the 11-track record, is “I90.” It begins almost as a dirge, then completely explodes midway through. When I saw them recently at a small club in DC, lead singer Jael Holzman came into the crowd to begin the song amid fans at its quieter part, then slowly made her way to the stage to plug in and just bring the house down.

  But beyond the music, which is haunting and stunning, the lyrical journey is almost as jaw-dropping. The song begins with references to traveling for Jesus on the way to Chicago and then shifts to what is surely the only song ever to reference AC/DC and the Torah in the same verse, with references to domestic violence thrown in just to mangle your heart a bit more: “It's a long long way to the top/If you really wanna rock and roll/You can give me beatings, boy/You’ll never free my soul/From the obelisk, Obediah/You know that my momma/Raised me to die young/Like the Torah says/Thank your ancestors/Wash your hands/And believe in the desert/It’s getting rough out there/But it’s been tougher each day/And I just want my say/And a piece of ancient scripture.” This song feels like what it might be like to try to make the journey across I90 in more or less one go, taking on the emotional and physical pain of pushing through the hardest moments on a dark highway and waiting for the first light to emerge.

• “I-90” from Revival of a Friend by Sour Widows – This track appears on the brilliant recent Sour Widows record but is actually a couple of years old.  This song is the most like a “road song” of the first few collected here, with singer Maia Sinaiko talking about repeatedly flipping over the same cassette tape, watching her passenger nod off and wondering if the cattle she was passing in the car were filtering into their dreams, and then ultimately comparing her life to the road itself: “And it hurts like/I’m all emptied out/Like the freeway/you keep driving down.” The highway isn’t just a passing reference or vehicle (sorry) for the song to use, but rather it forms the lyrical and emotional core.  Sinaiko feels lost, to some degree, and she’s hoping the road and this journey will lead her somewhere, perhaps to herself, even if that’s a painful place to be.  Sour Widows, yet another excellent Bay Area band, has a gorgeous slowcore sound that also builds throughout the track, though far less explosively than Ekko Astral does.  The music is less haunting than the lyrics, to be sure, and to some degree feels like its function is to root Sinaiko as she searches.  Listening to the whole of “Revival of a Friend” feels like perhaps she’s now found a bit more of what she was looking for.         

• “I-90” from Dying in the Wool by Claire Ozmun – Unlike Sour Widows, Claire Ozmun is quite clear that she is lost and not really sure if she wants to be found, or even what that would mean. “I am 24 years old and I don’t like to leave my parents’ home/I went off for a few years but I don’t like the feeling of being on my own/I am 24 years old and my younger brother has more money than me.” The song is emotionally spare and depressing but somehow not entirely sad. Ozmun is laughing at herself, or she’s trying to, wondering, for example, if she’ll ever feel the urge to have a baby, like her best friend is about to. She sees that life is “a rat race/a time machine/a hamster wheel/a day dream.” And there is just a bit of hope at the end: “White Honda/On I-90/Driving farther from my family/White knuckling the steering wheel/And your call/Feels like a big, big deal.” The Brooklyn-by-way-of-Ohio singer’s music is guitar-driven indie folk, but at its core, is Midwest Emo. The rest of the record doesn’t quite reach the heights of this track (to be fair, few songs have for me in recent months), but at moments when I’ve felt lost lately, this is a track I’ve taken solace in.

Honorable Mention: Turns out there have been quite a few songs called I-90 over the years, but the one I didn’t know before starting this post that stuck out was:

• “I-90” from The Dogs Race to the Door by Left-Handed 2^nd Baseman. This really is just a straight-ahead road song, but it does the road song well, and it’s pretty hard to beat the band name. “I’m drivin down I-90 carrying the load/I’m runnin outta time but I ain’t running out of road” These are not lyrics that break new ground by any means, but the song takes you from Seattle to the “PA line” geographically, littered with images of the road like the gas station news network.  LH2B is the project of Rochester, NY-based Fran Broderick, and he pulls together a sound that owes a lot to some other acts that spent time in upstate NY, the Band most notably of all.   (Brad)

  

Album from an upcoming/recent show: The Hard Working Men by Ispini na hEireann.  As someone who has lived exclusively on the East Coast, I consider myself well-versed in the music scenes of New York, DC, and to a lesser extent Baltimore.  So when I travel, one of my favorite things to do is take in the local music culture, whether that means seeing area bands or checking out a renowned local venue (another favorite activity – taking in a game on the road).  For example, on a visit to Minneapolis, I made my way to the legendary First Avenue for a Billy Bragg show, with Black 47 opening.  One trip to Chicago led me to a Bosnian Rainbows show at the Empty Bottle, while another brought me to one night of Wilco’s winter residency at the Riviera Theatre.  And a trip to San Francisco included a spur-of-the-moment visit to The Independent where the headliner was The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.

As you can see, I’ve made the effort.  Such was the case on my most recent trip, a vacation with my wife (sans kids!) to Dublin.  And while I failed in my attempt to catch a game (congrats to County Clare on winning the senior hurling championship), on our second night, we made our way to The Cobblestone, a pub in the Smithfield district known for traditional, or “trad,” Irish music (motto: a drinking pub with a music problem).  And by sheer luck, the band jamming away that night at the front tables of this narrow, intimate pub while the crowd – a mix of locals and tourists – downed their pints of Guinness, were the members of the raucous Dublin trad virtuosos Ispini na hEireann.

Led by guitarist/vocalist Tomas Mulligan (whose family owns The Cobblestone) and banjoist/vocalist Adam Holohan, Ispini na hEireann (translation: The Sausages of Ireland) also features Aongus Mac Amhlaigh on cello, Padraig Og Mac Aodhaghain on uillean pipes, and Kinko Ceallaigh on bodhran.  Why did the band name themselves after processed pork?  The best reason possible, according to a 2023 Irish Times profile – it made them laugh.  Ispini na hEireann clearly take their music seriously, as they make an effort to differentiate their brand of trad from the tourist music found in Dublin’s Temple Bar district.  But their captivating Monday night jam at The Cobblestone (which I later learned was one of their regular slots) and their infectious 2022 debut LP The Hard Working Men present a band that shows reverence for their influences while also, as stated in that same Irish Times article, “fucking things up with trad and making [their] own sounds.”

The band receives a proper introduction on the title track to their 2022 debut, which opens with a delightful banjo/acoustic guitar interplay, with the boys calling themselves “the hardest working band on the island of Ireland” and promising that they’d “love to be your friends / so we’ll play your tunes and we’ll drink your pints / and we’ll start all o’er again.”  The song crescendos, the rest of the band joins in, eventually the pipes go to the forefront, and after a mere two minutes, the listener is ready for another pint of Guinness.  The full band truly flexes musically on the next song, an instrumental called “Bash Bash Bash,” with sporadic triple percussion blasts giving the tune its name and bringing to mind The Pogues’ “Wild Cats of Kilkenny.”  Ispini na hEireann also close the album with their version of the mostly-instrumental classic “The Silver Spear,” which begins with roughly two minutes of positively gorgeous, precise banjo playing, before lifting into a rousing reel interspersed with sound effects of controlled chaos.  A sort of Chieftains-meets-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, if you will.

“Please Don’t Start the Fun” showcases the band’s playful side, and although some of the lyrics might be a little triggering to guys in my age group (“I’m eatin’ well and I’m sleepin’ right / And I’m just back from me run”) the song was at least partially inspired by COVID quarantines.  Ispini na hEireann get hyper-local and a little cynical on “Talk to Joe,” a gentle number about a popular Dublin radio call-in show.

In addition to “The Silver Spear,” several other tracks are re-workings of classic songs.  Ispini na hEireann put their own spin on The Saw Doctors’ “The Green and Red of Mayo,” The Dubliners’ “Three Lovely Lassies from Kimmage,” “Come Out Ye Black and Tans,” the Irish rebel song written by Dominic Behan, and the traditional song “A Health to the Company.”  Each manages to keep the spirit of the original while adding a more modern flavor.

As great as this album is to listen to, seeing Ispini na hEireann live is even better.  Anyone who’s fortunate enough to visit Dublin should head straight to The Cobblestone on a Monday night.  Chances are, after grabbing a pint (or two, or three), you’ll enjoy several hours of crowd-pleasing, masterfully-played songs by the hardest working band named for sausages. (Brian)

Album (um, songs) being rediscovered (at least 10 years old):  It’s my time to shine.

Like me, Democratic Vice Presidential candidate and current Minnesota Governor Tim Walz is a big Warren Zevon fan.  After he was announced as Kamala Harris’ running mate, a tweet from May 2023 was circulated around the interwebs in which Walz wrote, “As Governor of Minnesota I cannot believe Warren Zevon was not inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”  You and me both, Mr. Governor.  Given that Zevon has no direct connection to the Land of 10,000 Lakes (he was born in Chicago and lived in Los Angeles during most of his music career), this was Walz speaking from the heart.  In his introductory speech in Philadelphia, Walz even referenced Zevon’s “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead” from his 1976 self-titled album (and has continued to do so in later speeches).

This all got me thinking.  What other Zevon songs could Walz use in a stump speech?  There are plenty to choose from, as Zevon was the master of writing about scoundrels, shifty characters, and ne’er-do-wells.  Can you think of anyone who might fit that description?  Below is a list of suggestions for the campaign, free of charge and in no particular order since all of these songs are awesome, along with each song’s album and release year (note that this is all intended for fun and humor, as I do not wish to get fired from my regular job).  And regardless of how the next few months progress, as Zevon himself said, remember to enjoy every sandwich.

(1)    “Mr. Bad Example” (Mr. Bad Example, 1991):  One of the best songs from the back half of Zevon’s career.  A bouncy song about a truly bad dude who’s “very well acquainted with the seven deadly sins” and “keep[s] a busy schedule trying to fit them in.”  As he often does, Zevon sings from the perspective of the main character (“I’m Mr. Bad Example / Intruder in the dirt / I like to have a good time / And I don’t care who gets hurt”).  This song is chock full of lines that Walz could use against the big guy on the other side, and even includes an extra one for his opposing VP candidate (“Of course I went to law school and took a law degree / Counseled all my clients to plead insanity”).  Also be sure to check out the excellent live acoustic version on 1993’s “Learning to Flinch”.

(2)    “Lawyers, Guns and Money” (Excitable Boy, 1978):  A little too on the nose?  Maybe.  But in this campaign, who else do you think of when Zevon sings, “I took a little risk / Send lawyers, guns and money / Dad, get me out of this”?  Even the opening lines of the song – “I went home with the waitress / The way I always do / How was I to know / She was with the Russians too?” – bring to mind a certain videotape-and-bodily-fluid related rumor dating back to the 2016 campaign.  Like the werewolf’s hair, this song is perfect.

(3)    “Even A Dog Can Shake Hands” (Sentimental Hygiene, 1987):  From Zevon’s first post-sobriety album, the song is explicitly about agents, managers and hangers-on in L.A. leeching off of musicians, but the refrain (“Everybody’s tryin’ to be a friend of mine / Even a dog can shake hands”) chastises anyone who could be framed as an empty suit, whether in the music industry, Hollywood or, ahem, politics.  The song was co-written with Mike Mills, Peter Buck, and Bill Berry of R.E.M. – who also played on much of the album and recorded the unauthorized Hindu Love Gods covers album with Zevon (on which they did cover “Raspberry Beret,” so there’s at least one Minnesota connection, I guess) – and also served as the opening theme for the short-lived Jay Mohr sitcom Action.

(4)    “Disorder in the House” (The Wind, 2003):  From Zevon’s final album, which he began recording after receiving a diagnosis of terminal cancer and was released two weeks before his death.  I try not to be glib about songs from this album (I challenge anyone who knows Zevon’s story to listen to “Keep Me in Your Heart” and not get a little choked up).  That said, some of the lyrics in this song (on which Bruce Springsteen provides harmonies) are spot on for the chaos we’ve experienced -- and what might be on the way.  “And the fly in the ointment’s gonna bring the whole thing down.”  Who else but Zevon would come up with “I’m sprawled across the davenport of despair…And watch the sundown through the portiere”?  Looking back over the last eight years, you could say that “even the Lhasa Apso seems to be ashamed.”  There’s even a special line for his VP-nominee opponent – “Plaster falling down in pieces by the couch of pain.”  (I couldn’t resist.)

(5)    “I Was in the House When the House Burned Down” (Life’ll Kill Ya, 2000):  Most of the lyrics don’t really apply, but some variation of the title really fits if you want to make the case that your opponent dropped the ball the last time he was in charge.  Still, though.  “I may be old and I may be bent / But I had the money ‘til it all got spent.”  Switch from first to third person and you have a winner.

(6)    “The Long Arm of the Law” (Transverse City, 1989):  You might have heard that the GOP nominee has run into a few legal issues recently.  And while Transverse City isn’t exactly my favorite Zevon album, and “The Long Arm of the Law” is far from its best track (that would be “Splendid Isolation”) it is, however, perfectly suitable for this exercise.  The lyrics end with what could be a nifty little taunt (“Now don’t protest your innocence…When the judge says, ‘Who done it?’ / You’ll be crying, ‘Not me, not me’”).

(7)    “Play It All Night Long” (Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School, 1980):  “Grandpa pissed his pants again / He don’t give a damn.”  Really the only suitable lyrics for this, but they hit hard if you want to describe your opponent as old and not all there.  And while the song engages in small town stereotypes, I’ll take it 100 times over Hillbilly Elegy.

(8)    “My Shit’s Fucked Up” (Life’ll Kill Ya, 2000):  In case the candidate ever gets the opportunity to really work blue.  The guy who first called his opponents “weird” is certainly well-positioned to make the case that their shit is, in fact, fucked up.

(9)    “The French Inhaler” (Warren Zevon, 1976):  One of Zevon’s finest compositions, it would seem an odd fit for this list given that it’s a particularly nasty song about his ex, who’s also the mother of his son Jordan.  But “The French Inhaler” contains some of my favorite Zevon lyrics, one grouping of which could be a nice barb directed at a certain politician’s spray-tanned, comb-overed vanity (“I caught a glimpse of you / And your face looked like something / Death brought with him in his suitcase”).  Of note – harmonies on “The French Inhaler” were sung by SoCal contemporaries (and Lebowski objects of derision) Glenn Frey and Don Henley, and the album was produced by fellow Angeleno Jackson Browne.

(10)“Seminole Bingo” (Mutineer, 1995):  One of several songs that Zevon co-wrote with his pal Carl Hiaasen, the novelist and Miami Herald reporter and columnist (Zevon often performed with the Rock Bottom Remainders, a group of writers – including Dave Barry, Mitch Albom, Amy Tan, Stephen King, and occasionally Hiaasen – who held concerts to raise money for charity).  It’s a rocking, wry song about a fraudster on the lam from authorities, hiding out in (where else?) Florida, “down in the swamp with the gators and flamingos” with “a suitcase full of money.”

(11)“Jeannie Needs a Shooter” (Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School, 1980):  No.  Just… no.  In this context, forget this (great) song even exists.

(12)“The Overdraft” (The Envoy, 1982):  See #11.  We’re getting into “taking things a little too far” territory here.  Not one of his better-known songs, so listen to the lyrics, and you’ll get it.  Along with Transverse City, The Envoy is a Zevon album I rarely return to.

(13)“Excitable Boy” (Excitable Boy, 1978):  It was all leading to this, wasn’t it?  Truly one of Zevon’s signature songs.  And while the lyrics are very specific and very graphic, the story is about a dangerous, unpredictable sociopath and the people who enable and make excuses for him.  “Well, he’s just an excitable boy.”  Remind you of anyone?

And one bonus song for all the people who say they’re moving out of the country if the election doesn’t go their way:

(14) “Hit Somebody! (The Hockey Song)” (My Ride’s Here, 2002):  From the album recorded just before Zevon’s cancer diagnosis.  The song tells the story of Buddy, a “Canadian farm boy” who “dreamed he was Rocket Richard” but “racked up more than 300 fights” as a junior player.  Buddy makes the pros as “the king of the goons” but all he wants is “one damn goal,” which (spoiler alert) he eventually gets at the end of the song in his final game.  The voice shouting “Hit Somebody!” in the chorus?  That would be Zevon’s buddy David Letterman, who championed his music perhaps more than anyone.  (Want another moment of getting choked up?  Watch Zevon’s final appearance – of many – on Letterman before his death.  It’s both a fitting tribute and two friends publicly saying goodbye.)  If the election results trigger a move to Canada, start learning about the fastest sport on ice. (Brian)